Aca Wiedersehen
by mausbug
Summary: Kommissar makes her very sexually confused.
1. Chapter 1

"We are Das Sound Machine," a blonde woman's stoic face appeared on the screens above the stage, flickering from time to time in what was clearly some kind of high art statement.

The woman continued robotically: "A German collective operating in concert to create sonic mastery," A collective? Not even the Treblemakers had egos at this level. "What better way to celebrate automotive perfection?" the woman asked, sounding somehow both bored and sincere. She glitched out, leaving only smoke and lights on the stage.

Several men stalked out , singing with both strain and extreme precision. Beca watched them, unconcerned.

Then the perc dropped. Lilly was good at tonal perc, but these Germans took it to another level. Some of the smoke on the side cleared, revealing the muscular blond man who was producing these insane sounds. Beca's eyes flicked back and forth between the perc and the tall man in the mesh shirt who had begun singing the solo.

Many more Germans poured onstage, the last of whom was the blonde woman from the video, who came in on a half-screamed "come on!" Moving robotically across the stage, she began singing with the tall soloist. Beca's jaw fell open slightly at her tone and precision.

It was clear from the chemistry between the two leads that this was a a tight-knit, well-practiced group. Could the Bellas really take them on? For the first time in her a cappella career (oh god, that sounded so queerballs), Beca was concerned that she and her girls might lose.

All of Das Sound Machine moved together like falling puppets, and Beca looked around at the other Bellas. Chloe seemed paler than normal. Fat Amy's mouth was hanging open. Jessica and Ashley were holding onto each other, eyes wide. Lilly was muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "I'm a trained assassin." Beca looked back at their rivals.

DSM finished strong and ignored the thunderous applause, choosing to march off stage rather than bow. Beca sat with her shock.

* * *

Das Sound Machine strutted up to the Bellas, the male and female leads in front.

"Barden Bellas," the blonde addressed the group, almost pleasantly, and reached her hand out. The male lead immediately and dutifully gave her a small, fluffy white towel. "You came here to see us?" The blonde began dabbing at non-existent sweat on her neck. "Is it because you are…" she trailed off as she moved her gaze from one side to the other, pretending to be deep in thought "what do the American kids say…" she lifted her eyebrows as she finished her sentence: "jelly."

Fat Amy and Stacie tried valiantly to not look jelly as Chloe revealed all of the group's feelings with her attempted comeback: "We are so not jelly."

The blonde moved the towel from hand to hand as she taunted the Bellas: "We should really thank you for making this tour a reality," she looked over to the Legacy, and the male lead glanced his smirking face over at her as she continued "you know, with your bumbling ineptitude?"

He smirked even harder as she turned to him and said "We should send them something. Fruit basket?"

"Yum yum," he mocked, shaking his head as if reacting to a delicious meal. The blonde smiled a confident smile as she turned back to Beca, eyebrows raised.

"Or would you prefer mini-muffins?" she finished with a toothy, superior grin.

Beca had to respond, had to bolster her group. She mustered up her classic Beca bravado.

"Okay, we didn't come here to start something with you guys, we just wanted to check you out before the Worlds, where we're going to kick your ass," she challenged in her plain, straightforward, middle-American speech. Cynthia Rose, Flo, and Ashley echoed encouragements from the table behind her.

The blonde began a catlike stalk towards her and Beca knew she had made a mistake.

"You?" the blonde pointed at her, looking simpering sweet and ready to pounce. "You are the kicker of ass?" Beca was rooted to the floor, couldn't stop staring, couldn't stop herself.

"We—yeah," she creaked out, rolling her eyes to the side in some faux-modest flirty way she hadn't known was in her.

The German was close, now, too close, and she kept challenging. "You are so tiny," she grinned like a lion staring down an impala. "Like an elf," she seemed to remember herself now, returning to her usual mocking tone, "or is it a fairy…? Or a sprite?" Without turning, she posed a question to her male companion in flat German.

"Troll," he responded with a bizarre pleasure.

"That's it. You are like a troll," she rasped, baring her teeth and looking down at Beca.

"You—!" Beca started, knowing that she couldn't let the blonde win. At the same moment, the German lowered her stare, dropping the grin. Beca followed suit and became distracted "—are physically flawess." She darted her eyes back up to the blonde's face and remembered that she should be delivering an insult.

"Thank you," the German lead replied coolly, blinking several times more than necessary.

After a second of searching desperately for a proper follow-up to conceal her faux-pas, Beca knew there was no more stalling; she just had to go with what she had. "But it doesn't mean I like you," she added, trying to cock her head threateningly, but immediately failing when she wavered and dropped her eyes to floor, embarrassed that Chloe was watching her fail so hard at being a team leader.

Chloe tried to step in as the blonde's sidekick furrowed his brow, presumeably at Beca's idiocy. "We are not scared about the Worlds because when the Bellas hit the stage, we are gonna blow minds." Beca looked back over at the German with her eyebrows lowered in a way she hoped looked intense.

The tall man finally spoke up: "With what? More of Flabby Abby's baby chute?"

As the male lead harassed Fat Amy, the blonde cocked her head, raised her eyebrows, and continued to stare down at Beca, who tried her best to stay tough. His expression shifted countless times in the exchange, but Beca couldn't look at him. Her eyes were locked in competition.

The blonde broke the dead silence between them: "Darlings, please take my advice," she simpered, "Don't try to beat us. You can't. We are the best," she cracked her neck and resumed glaring down at Beca. "And now I really must go rest my neck. It is sore from looking down on you," With that, she turned on her heel and marched away, her sidekick following quickly behind.

"Okay, just because you're making me very sexually confused does not mean that you're intimidating!" Beca yelled after her, gesticulating wildly. "We have nothing to lose! Literally nothing! Aca-wiedersehen, bitches!" Wait, what the fuck? "Oh my god, what is happening? Why am I using my hands so much?"

"Great job, Beca, what was that?" Chloe questioned.

Fat Amy added "Yeah, you let that lady Deustchbag eat YOU for lunch."

Beca didn't know what had gone wrong, but she did know that this German girl—no, woman— was going to pose a serious problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Kommissar. Kommissar? What kind of a name—? What IS that? Beca leaned forward and scanned her laptop, the covers of her bed moving around her.

Kommissar. Das Sound Machine's website says the blonde's name is Kommissar. But that can't be right, can it? What kind of nutso parents would you have to have to actually be named Kommissar?

Maybe it's a stage name, Beca reasoned.

Kommissar. She really was mesmerizing, both in person and in the online videos Beca was watching for the third time around.

Fuck, DSM is good. The Bellas were really going to have to pull something mind-blowing out for Worlds.

"Ugh, I can't think about this right now," Beca muttered, closing her browser. With the opportunity she had opened up at work, she couldn't afford to think about anything other than producing. Bellas (and DSM) would have to take a backseat.

* * *

Beca grunted with exertion. The Fat Amy of their freshman year would be dying—Chloe was working them very hard at rehearsal. She was acting more like Aubrey every day.

Beca snorted, imagining what Aubrey's reaction to DSM might have been. She would've stared Kommissar down, giving as good as she got with the ramrod sharpness of her WASP-y upbringing, shaking ever so slightly physically but Kommissar's unchallenged equal mentally.

Why was Beca, on the other hand, shaken to her core by the German's predatory stare? It was like her brain had completely stopped when Kommissar had trailed her eyes down Beca's body.

She closed her eyes and tried to re-focus on her baton twirling.

Queerballs.


	3. Chapter 3

Beca led the group up to the front of a, frankly, all-too-fancy mansion. Uncertain, several members of the group wrung their hands in front of them while they walked, Emily the most visibly nervous of the bunch. She was walking with her eyes closed and almost crashed into a well-manicured hedge.

Upon arrival, Beca rapped on the ornate entryway. A slot in the middle of the door slammed open.

"Password," barked a feminine Southern voice. Beca leaned down to the opening.

"Fart noise?" She proffered, disbelieving.

"Did you not see the parentheses?" the man behind the door chided.

Unhappy about this development, Beca raised the crook of her arm to her mouth and blew. The door swung open, revealing an older man in spotted pajamas, a royal blue brocade dressing gown, and a treble clef necklace on a gold chain.

"Bellas! Come on in!" He exclaimed happily, and led them to his kitchen, where he introduced himself as the world's biggest a cappella fan (Beca had to hold in her laughter) and lectured them for being late. After a few minutes of chatting, he led them down to his basement, which Beca found a little threatening.

The room below was beautiful and enormous, with a plush carpet, a stage, and several gaggles of well-dressed people, some of whom they recognized. Chloe gasped.

"Das Sound Machine, 2 o'clock!" she stage-whispered at Beca, who whipped her head around at just the right time to see Kommissar and her sidekick Pieter floating toward them, the blonde looking as smug and superior as ever in deathly tall heeled boots.

"Tiny maus!" she addressed Beca with some note of pleasure, perhaps due to the wine in her hand, "We meet again," she finished conspiratorially, leaning in. Beca could almost smell the spice of the… wait. Was that cinnamon? She shook her head to clear it and recovered as Pieter shook his head.

"Another verbal beatdown; highlight of my day," he quipped. Chloe stood strong and stared him down.

Kommissar, hands on her hips, swinging herself ever so slightly from side to side, asked "So, have you abandoned your foolish plans to challenge us at the Worlds?"

Beca, mesmerized by the hip movements, replied with the ever so composed "You wish, you…" she paused as she raised her finger to point at Kommissar's devastatingly attractive, cinnamon-y face, "gorgeous specimen." She could feel Chloe looking at her with that _come on, you idiot_ look she tended to give during particularly contentious rehearsals when she wanted Beca to sack up and get her shit together. "She's really in my head," she muttered at the redhead.

Clearly amused by her effect on the tiny mouse, Kommissar teased "I'll be happy to send you there. Large envelope; it costs nothing." She chuckled, then grinned in the knowledge that Beca was too overwrought to come up with any proper comebacks.

"Well, not nothing," Pieter tagged on, seizing the opportunity to get in on the verbal sparring, "It would cost a little bit, but not so much as, like, a horse or an adult moose." Beca felt herself filling with rage at the sheer smugness of this, this, this— smug-ass duo.

"Have you ever thought maybe you're TOO big!?" she yelled, throwing a fist towards Pieter. Chloe grabbed her and tried to talk her down as she pulled her far away from a physical altercation with the Germans. Beca, unphased, yelled after them "It would cost a fortune to mail you!" In her fit of rage, she vaguely heard something from Kommissar and Pieter that sounded a lot like "feisty maus," which only made her struggle more against Chloe and yell out "you're enormous!"

Having finally gotten Beca across the room and far enough away from the two leaders of Das Sound Machine, Chloe squared Beca up by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes, obviously displeased.

"Beca, we can't take any chances! Attacking anyone in Das Sound Machine will definitely be enough for John Smith and Gail Abernathy-McKadden-Feinberger to disqualify us from Worlds, too! Do you want that?" Chloe was yelling now, and Beca's anger had been drowned in shame at her normally clear blue eyes that were now stormy.

"I'm sorry, Chlo. She's in my head," Beca offered, ashamed at her behavior.

"Well, you need to get over it. We have to be careful!" the redhead snapped back, eyes widening.

"I will, I will. I'm so sorry," the small brunette offered, looking back up into Chloe's eyes, which seemed to soften as they looked into Beca's. Looking over her friend's shoulder, she could see Kommissar dancing and smirking at her from across the room.

* * *

The ringleader was just finishing up his explanation of the riff-off, but Beca found it harder and harder to continue to focus her attention on the odd man in the robe. She was stuck on that fierce-eyed German across the room. Kommissar was shifting her weight from side to side, lapping up the instructions, practically salivating at the chance to compete.

Watching the blonde, Beca found herself contemplating the intensity of that deustchbag's desire to win. No one actually wants $42k at Dave and Buster's that badly. It was clear from DSM's practiced perfection, Kommissar's unnecessary comment about their "bumbling ineptitude," and her current behavior that the German was practically addicted to competition. Where does anyone get that kind of drive?

Suddenly, those fierce eyes snapped over to look at the Bellas. Or maybe… at Beca? Yes, Kommissar was returning her stare, grinning wide as she settled into position. Beca looked away just in time to see the category land on Songs About Butts.

Trying to return her attention to the Bellas, she turned to Chloe and joked "so anything on the radio, right?" then looked back at Kommissar, who was engaged in some rapidfire planning with her team.

Das Sound Machine was selected to start, and as the heavy beat came in (where did they find that guy?), the blonde began to dance in some unusual back-and-forth kind of swing. Then Pieter started singing and Beca almost had to laugh. You can start with ANY song about butts, and you choose the Thong Song? She had to hand it to them: DSM was nothing if not dramatic.

Her laughter came to an abrupt halt when Kommissar moved to the center of the room and started singing, gyrating, and pointing her finger around the crowd, practically demanding to see several thongs.

Beca was relieved when the Tonehangers took over with some disturbing butt shaking of their own. Glancing back at DSM, she could see that Kommissar looked pleasantly surprised by the five-piece group's antics.

Stacie cut in with a Flo-Rida/T-Pain contribution, and Beca could feel unknown eyes on her as she got "low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low." Maybe she was imagining things.

The Green Bay Packers were surprisingly good, and Benji's flub was adorable, if embarrassing. She mouthed a "sorry?" over to Jesse as the Treblemakers walked off to the side, wondering what he would think if he knew about the way a statuesque German could make her talk like an idiot.

When she cut the Tonehangers off during the Country Lovin' round, she tried to summon all of her tiny ferocity on "Before He Cheats," and that one booty-shaking Tonehanger who had begged, years earlier, for her to punch him in the face began to beg. That had to be a good sign. She finished off with a throat-cutting flourish and, unable to help herself, glanced at the DSM corner for a reaction. Kommissar wasn't even looking. Damn it.

The Green Bay Packers missed out on their 42 G's at D&B's, and a new category was selected. Of course DSM kicked it off again.

This time, the blonde danced robotically, creepily, and let some other girl take the lead, which seemed odd. Chloe jumped in, and the Bellas found themselves trying to challenge DSM with T-Swift. Kommissar made a little motion with her hands as if to say "bring it," Beca glared at her as she sang triplets and gestured in a way she though might look threatening. The German scoffed and almost looked like she might be… smiling? In a non-smirk-y way. But she quickly gathered back up her superior air as the Bellas were cut off by a very bizarre offering from the Tonehangers.

"Get him out of here," Pieter shouted, and Beca found herself agreeing. Surely John Mayer and Tina Turner weren't…? Yikes.

Now it was just the Bellas and DSM; the two groups squared off at the world's biggest a cappella fan's cue, and all of the members of the Laser Ninja Dragon League looked up to see what the final category would be. 90's Hip Hop Jamz. Yes! Beca immediately got pumped up, but she saw out of the corner of her eye that Kommissar and Pieter looked like they felt pretty victorious as well.

And yet again, DSM got to start. Beca was starting to think this riff-off was rigged.

"This is how we do it," Pieter started. The blonde joined in, dancing, her mesh shirt riding up to expose more of her toned stomach. Beca stopped short in her dancing and flat-out stared. She wasn't sure why seeing skin uncovered by the mesh shirt was so different from seeing skin through the mesh shirt, but it absolutely was. She felt rooted to the floor, unable to take her eyes away from Kommissar, unable to focus on anything but looking at her.

Then something strange happened. The blonde glanced over at her and pulled some weird move where she smoothed her hair down with her pointed hands. Kommissar had never looked so awkward; not in person or in any of the videos Beca had seen of her. Then she looked up, shook her body off, and gyrated devastatingly toward Cynthia Rose, who took it in stride, starting the Bellas' next song.

Recovering, Beca joined in, but their glory was short-lived, because Pieter grabbed the music right back. But then Fat Amy jumped back in, and it looked good for a precious few seconds.

"Insane in ze membrane!" Pieter practically yelled, expecting a killing blow.

And that pajama'd ringleader pointed furiously at them to return the challenge, but Beca was at a complete loss. Swiveling around frantically, she could see that no one else knew what to do either. All of a sudden, Emily burst in with something that sounded decidedly not 90's. And not hip hop.

It was over.


	4. Chapter 4

So they had lost, and Chloe was pissed off at the little Legacy and Jesse grabbed her and ran to meet the Green Bay Packers and Kommissar was jumping and pointing at herself during appropriate portions of Pieter's altered version of "Jump."

Everything was going swimmingly until she and Jesse separated and that goddamn frustratingly tall German walked up to her at the punch bowl, alone this time, to start yet another confrontation.

"Feisty maus," she greeted Beca cheerily, a little too close for comfort.

"Kommissar?" she practically squeaked out, turning and raising her voice in question. The blonde looked amused at her intonation and stepped just a hair closer.

"Maus, you know my name?" she grinned, "I am flattered." The blonde widened her eyes and looked down at Beca, smirking.

"That can't possibly be your real name!" she replied, a little too loud and a little too aggressively for the space. From the other end of the refreshment table, Chloe perked up and turned her head, looking at the DJ with her eyes narrowed. Beca had to keep it cool.

"Perhaps not," the blonde blinked lazily.

"Look, do you have to stand so close to me?" Beca questioned after a short pause. Chloe was leaning in now, trying to eavesdrop.

The blonde rolled her eyes a little and stepped even closer. "Based on your earlier comments, maus, it would seem you want me this close," she articulated slowly with a wide, confident grin.

Blushing furiously, Beca reacted as best she could: "I think I'd like you to keep your gorgeous blonde head away from me!"

Kommissar grinned at this and replied "As you like," turning slowly and sauntering away. Beca found her eyes trained on the movement of her ass in those tight black pants, wondering at the German's muscle tone and the way those heels just… lifted everything right up. Her jaw dropped slightly as she pondered, and at that very moment, Kommissar turned her head back and smirked, remarking loudly: "I see now why you wanted me to leave." Beca blushed hard and turned her attention back to the table, filling a fancy glass tumbler with a healthy helping of scotch, something she had never had before but felt appropriate for this stressful and baffling night.

She took a long sip of the scotch, and Chloe sidled up to her, concern written on her face. "Beca, you really seem off," she began. Beca waved her off. "No, seriously, Beca," she continued, "You haven't seemed focused on the group, you're saying crazy stuff every time you're near that DSM girl, and you and Jesse have hardly spent any time together these last few weeks. What's going on?"

Emotional conversations don't come naturally to Beca Mitchell, and they certainly don't come naturally in the crowded basement of a multi-millionaire a cappella superfan's mansion. Despite wanting to connect with Chloe, Beca replied noncommittally: "No, it's really nothing, Chlo. Don't worry about it," and walked off with her drink to meet up with Jesse. Maybe spending time with him could level out some of the weirdness.

She found Jesse playing flip cup with some of the other Trebles and Tonehangers. It initially seemed like an odd game for such a fancy party, but then she noticed their host egging Benji on at the other end of the table.

Jesse had been a constant in her life for the past three years. He was stable, loyal, and loveable, and he had gotten her through many rough times: tough rehearsal weeks with the Bellas, 6 semesters' worth of final exams, and the inevitable stresses that came with sharing a campus with her father.

Recently, though, he had felt less like a boyfriend and more like a quirky brother, which: ew. Beca wasn't sure why their romantic feelings had faded. It might have had something to do with their many commitments and responsibilities, both a cappella-wise and academically; it might have been that talented, beautiful film student he couldn't stop talking about last year; or… something else entirely. Regardless, she wasn't sure where it left them.

Shaking off her thoughts, Beca tapped Jesse on the shoulder.

"Be-caw!" he shouted as he whirled around "Been missing you, dude!" He engulfed her in a bear hug, then pulled away, holding her shoulders. "We are _killing_ _it_ at flip cup, Becs," he informed her emphatically, leaning in on "killing it." He released her shoulders and moved aside, inviting her to stand next to him.

She shook her head, pointing at her glass with a flick of her wrist. "I think I've got plenty to drink."

He shrugged. "Whatever you say, Be-caw!" He smiled at her. "Oh shit!" He exclaimed shortly after and turned around to chug his beer; he had almost missed his turn.

Watching him, Beca smiled with her mouth, but her eyes didn't crinkle. She took a sip from her scotch and coughed a little, then felt several slaps on her back that made her cough even more. "Jesus!" she cried out, mid-cough, and looked to her right.

"Oh…" Fat Amy trailed, "I thought that would help you."

"Not so much," Beca sputtered.

"Sorry…" the Australian responded, "Hey," she continued, dragging a still-recovering Beca a few more feet away from the flip cup game, "How are you doing?"

Finally back on her feet and cough-free, the DJ inspected her friend with a furrowed brow, wondering how Fat Amy knew what was up. "… What?" she settled on after a pause.

Fat Amy sighed and pulled her a bit farther from Jesse and the game. "I know things haven't been great with you and Jesse for a while," she said with no trace of doubt, "and now you get all tongue-tied around that sexy German dominatrix." Beca's eyes were wide with shock as Fat Amy continued: "I just wanted to make sure you're alright."

Somehow Fat Amy's perpetually honest style got to her a little more than Chloe's, and she opened her mouth to respond, but found herself staring at Jesse in silence instead. A few moments passed with Fat Amy staring at her calmly before she responded: "No, no. Everything is fine, dude."

"Okay," Fat Amy replied, "just let me know if I need to cap anyone." She leaned in slightly, "'Cause I will," she winked slowly, "if needed."

"That definitely won't be necessary," Beca responded firmly but playfully. "Thanks, Fat Amy."

"Anytime, BM," she replied.


End file.
